


Mortar and Pestle

by Jakathine (orphan_account)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alchemy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Mage!lock, aulock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-25
Updated: 2014-01-17
Packaged: 2017-12-30 10:26:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1017489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Jakathine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Until further notice this Fanfic has been discontinued</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Blas

John meandered down the narrow dirt path, his sandaled feet idly kicking a stone as he re-shouldered his satchel and straightened his crimson robe. Glass vials, wrapped carefully in cloth, still happened to clink together as he shifted the bag. Cursing, he told himself to be more careful.  The contents of the bottles were quite valuable and he had to get them delivered to the Sanctuary today. The young mage he was to meet was supposedly waiting for him in the Grand Library but since John did not know what the mage even looked like, he was having a hard time distinguishing among the other mages located in the Outer Yard of the Grand Library.

Shouting erupted just inside the Arch that connected the Outer Yard to the main walkway of the Library. John paused before he decided to find out what all the commotion was about. He rounded the corner and saw a dark-haired mage, clad in light blue robes, arguing with a red-haired mage equally garbed in light blue robes but had a golden stripe up the right arm, indicating whoever that person was they were part of the Sanctuary’s Higher Order. Suddenly the dark-haired man turned on his heel and stomped away from the other, who merely shook his head. The mage walked past John, his robe billowing out behind him. John hesitated then followed the mage, concerned to know what was bothering him. The mage was quick though, for he had already disappeared among the shelves of the Library by the time John entered. John scanned the room, hoping to see a hint of the mage. After searching a few rows, he decided it was not worth wasting any more time and began to walk towards the Herbalism section, intent on reading a few books before having to return to the Magicker to inform him of not finding the mage.

As he walked down the rows, John was surprised to see the mage he had been looking for standing in the Herbalism section, right in front of a stack of books John wanted to glance over. John pursed his lips then strode over to stand beside the mage and look at the books on the shelf.

Before he could comment, the dark-haired mage said, “My name is Sherlock Holmes. Wind Mage. From your attire of a crimson robe I can only assume you’re a Fire Mage. Though with also being in the Herbalism section, you’re a Medic.”

John stared at Sherlock, “Hello to you too.” He thought about making a retort but held his tongue, deciding to say instead, “My name is John Watson. You’re right though.” John tugged at his crimson robe, “This does quite give it away.”

 “Why did you pursue me?” Sherlock demanded, snapping the book in his hand closed loudly.

John raised an eyebrow but met the Wind mage’s gaze, “I was actually looking all over for a mage today but upon not finding said mage wanted to come here, to read over some old books. Saw you arguing with a Higher Order official and wanted to know what you could have possibly done to annoy one.”

Sherlock scoffed, “That official is my older brother, Mycroft. He works at the very tail end of the Higher Order, working mostly backhanded work for the Magicker.”

John gave Sherlock a dubious look but could not argue. He knew the Magicker, the overseer of the Sanctuary and Grand Library, always had an eye out on just about everything that occurred within either.

“What were you searching for a mage for?” Sherlock asked.

“Had something to give from the Magicker.” John stated.

Sherlock held out his hand, “A vial of dried wolfsbane, a vial of merfolk tears, and a vial of ogre phlegm.”

John’s jaw dropped, “How did….are you the mage the Magicker was speaking of?”

Sherlock nodded, “Yes. I dabble in solving cases for him. In order for me to solve the latest one I had to get those ingredients ordered to perform an experiment. Now, give them to me.”

John snorted, “I am not handing over such precious ingredients to someone who could be the wrong mage.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes, exasperated, “Give me them.”

“No.” John said, turning to keep his satchel out of reach.

“I will go to the Magicker about this.” Sherlock threatened.

John stepped to the side of the aisle, “Go ahead. I’ll be right behind you.”

Sherlock ground his teeth and slunk past John, grabbing the fire mage’s robes as he passed, “Come then.”

They reached the door of Magicker’s office, which located high up in the tower facing the entrance of the Grand Library. Sherlock rapped three times on the door and waited. Eventually, the door opened inward to reveal the Magicker, a rather grey-haired man adorned in a purple robe trimmed with gold up the arms and collar, sitting calmly at his desk.

“Ah, hello, Sherlock. How might I help you?” the Magicker asked, grinning widely.

“Magicker .” Sherlock smiled with a slight nod, “You sent John on a mission to find me but did not give him my classification nor my description. Upon my telling him I was indeed the correct mage to hand the ingredients to, he refused, saying that I did not seem like the one who would be collecting said ingredients.”

The Magicker rolled his eyes mockingly before turning to John, “I apologize for not mentioning Sherlock’s description. I forget that you are a few years his senior, having already left the Sanctuary by the time he was initiated.”

John nodded understandingly and asked, “So these ingredients are for Sherlock and his….experiments?”

“Yes. Whenever local reports come in of magical disturbances or of death by Magic, I ask of him his assistance in helping solve these since he has an aptitude for such.” The Magicker replied.

“All right then.” John gingerly took out the three vials and handed them to Sherlock.

The Magicker watched them closely then proposed, “Sherlock, were you not saying the other day you needed an assistant?”

Sherlock’s head jerked up and he glanced over at John before saying, “Yes, I did.”

The Magicker smiled, “And, John, Stamford mentioned that you had just returned from a long journey and had yet to find a lodging. The dual student tower Sherlock resides in has a vancancy."

“What are you proposing exactly, Magicker?” John inquired.

“Well, I would think it would settle well wouldn’t it? You can help assist Sherlock with your knowledge and Sherlock can give you housing in return.” The Magicker suggested.

Sherlock tapped his fingers against the side of his robe, “Sounds fine to me. You?” the last question was directed towards John.

John, knowing that he had no other choice but to accept, nodded.

“Good, it’s settled then. I will need you both to go into Arcane City together tomorrow for a new case. One of the folk say that there have mysterious disappearances of young children. For now, I want you to get the rest of today to know one another before embarking on such. The journey to Arcane City will take a few days at best and I want you well rested.” The Magicker smiled again, “Now, be gone, I have some matters to attend to.”

Sherlock and John walked out of the Magicker’s office and walked down to the tower’s exit. As they were about to part ways, Sherlock says:

“It’s tower 221b. Located by the baker’s shop.”

“Okay. I know where that is. Still the same bakery that was there when I was here last.” John smiled, “Pleasure to meet make your acquaintance . See you later.” he said before heading back to the Grand Library.


	2. Bismuth

They had set out early the next morning and yet during their already four hour journey neither had exchanged a word, Sherlock being content to ride ahead while John cantered behind him. The silence was enough to drive John crazy.

“So. Why were you in the herbalist section of the Library?” John asked in an attempt to start a conversation as he walked his horse to be even with Sherlock’s.

Sherlock looked across at John and heaved a much too elaborated sigh, “I was collecting further information on wolfsbane. Though I required it for an experiment I needed to brush up on my knowledge for it seemed to have gotten deleted upon my requiring some memorizing of a few complex spells.” He straightened his back and pulled the reins so his horse slid to be in front of John’s once more, thus attempting to end their conversation.

“Ah.” John said, watching as Sherlock attempted to obviously silence the conversation. John smirked and once more made his horse even with Sherlock’s, “You said were a wind mage. Any specialty maneuvers memorized from when you took the Exam?”

The Exam was the senior tests for magi, generally occurring between the ages of twenty-five and thirty, depending on magic composition. All in their final year of academic schooling had to take the test to find out their elemental power’s true defense and offense maneuver. For earth it could be how to create javelins and shields out of the dirt and stone, for water a trident or protection bubbles, for air there were tunnels and vortexes, and with fire it was normally whips or chains. John remembered when he took his Exam, surging ahead of the others in his class and finding that his maneuver was not even for a battle magus but for a healing magus with his fire whip being able to be converted into a binding to rapidly seal and heal wounds. His friend Mike, a water magus, was similar in that his protection field was able to do a rare talent of conforming to ice and be laid over wounds to be a temporary seal. Every mage who was ever tested had the ability to take their weapon and convert it something unique that they only knew how to create and use.

Sherlock cleared his throat and licked his lower lip, contemplating before saying, “I took the Exam twice and the results were inconclusive.”

John’s mouth dropped. Here was Sherlock Holmes, a wind-mage who had inconclusive testing results. John closed his mouth and saw Sherlock scoot ahead once more. This time John did not give chase. To have inconclusive results on an Exam meant one of two things: the mage in question could not use the elements, merely spells memorized and drawn upon the surrounding life force, primarily that of oneself, thus allowing him to be called a wizard only; or he was a wind-mage through and through who had a Magick blockage. John had only heard of two cases of a Magick blockage being removed. One person died and the other raved half mad for the rest of their life. Magick was tricky in that there had to be a natural flow from mind to body to spirit to element. A blockage formed in any one of those stages was horrendous for any mage to encounter. To take the Exam twice told John that the former was the more likely case, as Sherlock had said he had learned some spells as of recent. Yet Sherlock had introduced himself as a wind mage. Questions circulated through John’s mind on this contradiction but he did not make any further comments.

They traveled the rest of the day in silence. John had just started drooping over his horse when Sherlock gave a low whistle to awaken him from his snooze. John then realized that they were at a brightly lit and inviting tavern. The pair settled at a corner table, John sipping ale while Sherlock contented himself with a mug of hot cider. Sherlock opened a pocket of his robe and withdrew a tied roll of parchments. John took one and read it as Sherlock viewed a map that had been drawn on another sheet.

“ _Magicker:_

_If you would be so kind to notify that Sherlock Holmes needs to come to Arcane City in search of a kidnapper. We have need of his expertise greatly. As of late the children have been disappearing one by one at night this past week. Not a single child has returned. No physical breeches have been made but there were tendril traceries of magic left on the locks but all of the local wizards cannot trace the tendril back to anyone in the City. The mysterious case about these kidnappings also it is that the magic which had opened these locks did not come from the outside in but rather inside out._

_We are considerably concerned and wish to apprehend this kidnapper soon. As for the condition of these children we are uncertain. Time is of the essence. Thank you._

_-Govern Lestrade”_

John pursed his lips and swapped papers with Sherlock, who had finished observing the map and was motioning for the letter. The map showed a large central structure that looked similar to a cathedral located in the exact center of Arcane City, with the entire city itself built to resemble a teardrop gem. In the large bulbous-like bottom there were houses seeming to be packed tightly together. Farther towards the point there were illustrated seller’s booths that followed along the tapering sides, markings on the paper thinning as they progressed to show fewer and fewer booths until it reached to a clear landed fine point that could only be the entry gates. A bowl of full of sliced fruits and leaves was placed in front of John. Surprised, he looked up and quickly thanked the hostess who had brought it over. She winked at John but a glare from Sherlock had her quickly walking away.

John saw the exchange and shrugged it off, opting instead to nibble on some of the apples and grapes that were in the bowl while pulling towards him another city illustration. This one showed the city from the side and depicting that the gate surrounding the entire city was like that of a crown, with the royal clubs having round supple tips jutting up into the air at even intervals.

“Arcane City is one of three major cities directly under authority of the king.” Sherlock commented upon seeing John’s fascination with the map.

“I was only here a few years ago. Did this and the other two get built in that time?” John inquired.

“Yes.” Sherlock sniffed his cider before taking a sip before picking up Lestrade’s letter and giving it a slight wave, “Each of the cities has a ruler that is a son of the king, with the Govern for each prince being the leader of their defense force as well as tactical advisor. The way the king saw to give his kingdom over to an heir, for he loves all three, was to designate them a city to oversee and through the people’s consensus find which of the three would be the best to inherit the throne.”

John’s eyebrows shot up. He was still a senior student himself when he had heard of the king’s three sons wanting equal shares of the kingdom with them being all in close proximity of age but had departed prior to the king’s solution being announced. This plan of the king’s was, in John’s mind, both brilliant and abnormal.

“So the fact you’re being summoned to Arcane City is that the brother there does not want to lose his good status?” John pondered aloud.

Sherlock flashed a quick grin as he took a long draught from his cider before setting it down on the wooden table with a resounding thump, “Exactly.”

John soon finished his meal and he and Sherlock retired to the two bedded room that the hostess. The two lay beds parallel with one another with a squat table in between and there was a simple dresser against the wall next to the window but else wise the room was sparse. John turned to see Sherlock propped up against the headboard and pillows, his fingers in a steeple and his eyes closed, a pose oddly striking in the moonlight filtering through the glass. John did not know what the young man was doing but decided to shrug it off and lay on his other side before falling asleep, for tomorrow he knew heralded more traveling.


End file.
